by Laura Day
“There's nothin' you can do, man,” I said cooly. “He's gone. It'll be over in a matter of minutes. Maybe less.”
“No, no, no,” Ricky said, his hand shaking.
As the realization hit him that he'd just killed a man with a bunch of witnesses standing in front of him, he seemed to go as pale as the dying man on the ground. His eyes contained a wild look of fear and uncertainty – he looked like a rat caught in a trap with no idea how to get out of it. I was willing to bet that Ricky's worst fear was going to jail for killing a man, but I could have told him that prison time was the least of his problems at that moment. He'd just shot and killed the leader of a motorcycle gang. On a scale of one to fucked, Ricky had just maxed out.
“It was an accident,” he stammered, genuine terror in his voice. “I didn't mean to shoot – ”
“It looked like you aimed at him to me,” I said, cutting him off. “I mean, that's a pretty good shot. Right in the chest. Center mass. That takes some skill, man.”
Ricky looked at me then back at Bates, gun still up and pointed, but his hand was shaking so badly, it wasn't pointed anywhere in particular. It was just kind of waving around wildly, and I was worried he might shoot someone else as he stood there pissing his pants.
“Put the gun down, Ricky,” I said.
He looked at me, and I saw something in his eyes that I sure didn't like. It was a look of resolve. Of somebody who knew he was doomed and wanted to make sure he went out on his terms. I'd seen it before in guys who knew they were about to die and the final act was never pretty. It was usually always a messy affair with a lot of people getting hurt in the process. Ricky walked toward me with the gun still raised, as if wanting to eliminate the chance of missing me and hitting somebody else again. There was a haunted look in his eye, one that said he knew he was fucked, but he was going to go down swinging.
“No, not before I finish this,” he said softly.
Despite the fact that I still had a gun in my hand pointed at him, Ricky turned around – another amateur mistake – and pointed the gun at Val. McCoy, who was holding her, put his arms up and moved away, suddenly worried about the man's terrible aim. Not that I could blame him after what had just gone down.
“Hey now, don't go doing anything stupid,” McCoy said.
But Ricky wasn't concerned with McCoy. His aim was on Val. Or as close to Val as he could manage.
“Please, Ricky,” she sobbed, clutching Laila to her chest. “Please don't do this. You don't have to do this.”
He walked away from me and back toward her.
“At least let me protect Laila,” she begged. “Kill me if you have to, but let me hand our daughter to someone else, okay? She's innocent in all of this and doesn't deserve to die.”
Reluctantly, he nodded. She worked to remove the child from the carrier and handed her over to McCoy, kissing her forehead as she passed the baby over to the man. He looked unsure and cut a quick glance at me, as if asking for advice about what to do with a child, but he eventually took the baby and held her to his chest. Laila fussed and cried, and McCoy made soft, cooing sounds, doing everything he could to calm her down.
“I love you,” Val mouthed to her baby.
But while this was going down and his attention wasn't focused on me, I took the opportunity to move closer to Ricky. His rage and hatred were so strong; he hadn't been paying attention to anybody but Val. He was focused solely on her as if all of the guys standing around – most all of them armed – weren't even there. Not even the fact that he'd just killed their club president seemed to register very deeply with him. He was fixated on Val and saw nothing else. Stupid, stupid man. It was a mistake he was going to regret very soon.
By the time Laila was safely in the arms of McCoy, my gun was touching Ricky's temple. The man flinched, and I was half afraid he was going to squeeze the trigger on reflex. Thankfully, he didn't, and I saw his eyes, wide with fear, shift over toward me.
“Turn around,” I demanded. “Put the gun on the ground and turn around.”
Of course, he didn't listen. I saw his eyes narrow, and he fired off a shot, trying to finish things to his satisfaction. Val screamed, but the bullet missed her. Thankfully, it missed everyone and instead, hit McCoy's already abused bike tire with a loud popping noise.
Ricky fired again, and this time, I didn't wait to see where it hit. Instead, I pulled the trigger without a second thought, and Ricky's suddenly limp body crumpled at my feet. Standing at such a close range that the barrel of my gun was pressed into his flesh, the noise deafened me, and I could hardly hear a thing. It sounded like a cannon had gone off, and my ears were ringing. I felt the blood, wet and sticky on my face, streams of it running into my eyes, making it more than a little difficult to see. I had no idea where his second shot had gone and because the blood temporarily blinded me and brain matter was caked to my face, I had no idea what had happened to Val. Had he hit her? Had he accidentally hit Laila?
I wiped the blood from my face as best I could, stumbling in the general direction I'd last seen Val standing, dazed and a bit confused. Someone's hands grabbed at me, but I pushed them away. They weren't Val's hands. I wasn't about to stop going until I knew Val and Laila were safe and unhurt. Then, and only then, would I deal with the consequences of what went down with the club.
My vision was beginning to clear, and the ringing in my ears began to fade, my hearing coming back in spurts.
“Mercer!” someone called out – a male voice.
Then I saw McCoy and in his arms, Laila. The baby was safe, and I had a moment of relief rush over me. But where was Val? She wasn't standing amongst the men, and I looked around wildly but didn't see her anywhere. I focused on a group of the guys standing in a cluster. They were all gathered around a huddled mass on the ground.
My heart dropped as I pushed my way through the group, falling to my knees beside her, expecting the worst.
“Val,” I cried out. “VAL!”
“Yes, Mercer,” she said, her voice the only sound I heard. She turned and looked up at me through eyes that shone with tears. “I'm okay. We're all okay. They stepped in front of me, knocking me down in the process. But I'm okay.”
The wave of relief that washed over me was more powerful than a tsunami, and I felt myself trembling beneath the power of it. I looked up and saw Jax standing there, in front of Val. He was smiling and gave me a small nod.
“Did you really think we were like that, man?” he said, reaching for my hand. “That we'd let some prick kill a girl like that?”
Honestly, I wasn't so sure. Nothing made sense anymore, but there we were. Safe. Val and Laila were safe. I was safe. Ricky was dead, and so was Bates. Suddenly, everything seemed right in the world. Like Justice had been served or something. I didn't know, and I couldn't put coherent thoughts together. All I could do was feel. And at that moment, I was feeling the twin tides of gratitude and relief.
In the distance, I heard sirens. They were faint, but growing louder as the emergency vehicles drew closer.
“Is he – ” Val asked, her eyes wide and focused on the body of her ex.
“Is he dead?” I finished softly. “Yes. He is. And you will never have to fear him – or anyone – ever again. I promise you that.”
There was a relief in her eyes that looked as powerful and profound as the feeling coursing through my own body. Often you'd expect to see some shred of sadness when somebody who'd been a part of your life dies. Deep down, there was some part of them that connected with you on some level, and most people would mourn the loss of that. If only a little. Most people felt… something. But there was nothing but pure relief on Val’s face as she fell into my arms, ignoring the fact that I was covered in Ricky's blood. I could feel it getting tacky on the skin of my face, neck, and chest and knew she had to feel it too. But there was nothing I could do. At least, not until I could take a shower.
But I was satisfied. Happy in the knowledge that for the first time in her life, she woul
dn't have to live in fear any longer.
That she'd be okay.
Chapter Thirty Five
Mercer
The road was a mess when the cops arrived, and at least one of the bodies could be attributed to me. I was willing to deal with the consequences, ready to serve jail time if it came to that. I knew I could be charged with murder – and probably would be. Hell, Ricky wasn't the first man I killed. Probably about time too. I'm sure I deserved to pay the price for all of the shit I'd done in my life. Like they said, what goes around, comes around. It was my time to pay the piper. Past time, really.
My only regret was that getting locked up for however many years I got meant I wouldn't be able to spend that time with Val. But at least I would go to prison knowing that the future was safe and secure for her and Laila. They wouldn't have to be afraid, and they wouldn't have to look over their shoulders for the rest of their lives.
As the cops cuffed me and took me away, Val argued with them, pleading my innocence.
“He was protecting me!” she wailed. “Everyone here will tell you the same thing!”
“It's okay, Val,” I said, resigned to my fate. “Really, it is. I'm just glad you and Laila can live your lives in peace now.”
It was easy to accept my fate. After all, I was a bad guy, and the police were just looking for something to take me down. Had been for a long time. And I'd just given them their chance. Served it up on a silver platter, in fact.
I called an attorney and was going to do my best to prove it was self-defense, but I didn't have much hope. The system didn't work for guys like me, and I didn't have the kind of money it would take to hire a lawyer that ensured I got the same sort of “justice” the wealthy got.
It was what it was.
Except, that it wasn't. The feeling of shock within me was deep and abiding when my lawyer told me that they'd dropped all charges against me. After they heard our story over and over again, they'd found Sherry's dead body at the club – with Bates' gun being implicated in her murder. And they also had Ricky's gun, which was tied to the murder of Bates.
It all lined up perfectly. It squared up the story we'd been telling.
The cops, of course, weren't happy about it, but they had to let me go. Try as hard as they might – and they'd tried hard – they couldn't pin it all on me. Nothing stuck. My past bad deeds were still covered up, and I'd confessed to nothing. They knew I was a bad guy who'd done bad things but had no proof of anything to implicate me in any of the crimes they'd been looking at me for. And they sure as hell couldn't implicate me in the death of Sherry or Bates.
As unbelievable and completely improbable as it was, I was a free man.
As I walked out of jail, alone and unsure of whether or not I'd be accepted back by my club, I knew I had no other choice but to clean up my act. I needed to get straight and start doing shit differently. Val might be long gone, but at least she never had to live in fear again. That was good enough for me.
The first person I saw outside was Jax, holding my kutte. He handed it over to me without saying a word, but I didn't put it on, not right away. I looked at it for a long minute and then looked over at him.
“You sure the guys want me back?” I asked.
“We held a vote, Mercer. It was unanimous. Not one person objected to keeping you in the club,” he said.
“Unanimous, huh?”
Jax nodded, a small smile playing on his lips. “That's not even the weirdest shit,” he said.
“No? What's the weirdest shit then?”
“It was not only unanimous to keep you in the club,” he said, “It was also unanimous that you take up the gavel as the club president.”
“No shit?” I said, scratching my chin. “Why in the hell would you guys do that? Especially after everything that just went down?”
“We want to turn things around, man. None of knew what Bates was into, and that shitshow made us realize who he was,” he said. “We don't want to be like that. We ain't like that. We want a club we can be proud of again – not one that kills innocent women just for a fuckin' payday. We think you'd be the perfect man to get this club turned around and back on track. If you'll come back and pick up that gavel, that is.”
“It's a lot to think about,” I said. “Especially now.”
“I know, man. We're here when you make a decision, alright?” Jax said. “Just don't wait too long, man. There's a lot of work that needs to get done.”
Though I struggled with it a bit in my mind, truth be told, there wasn't much of a decision to be made. I loved the Prophets. The club was in my blood. It was my brotherhood. I was being handed a golden opportunity to turn things around, to take the club back to what it used to be before men like Bates took over. I was being given the chance to make the Prophets a club we could all be proud of once again.
I think deep down, Jax knew what I did – no one else could turn us around but me.
“I'll do it,” I said. “This club is my family. It's time we got our house back in order.”
Jax patted me on the back while pulling me in for a one-armed hug. “Good. I was hoping you'd say that. We need you, man.”
And if truth be told, I needed the club too.
When Jax got onto his bike and put his helmet on, my mind was already swirling with thoughts and ideas about what we could do to turn the Prophets around. I'd been so consumed in thought, that it took me a minute to realize that there was someone else standing off in the distance. A woman. I heard the sound of a child laughing. A familiar sound – one that caused my heart to swell.
“Oh yeah, there's someone else who wanted to talk to you,” Jax said, giving me a smirk as he buckled the straps on his helmet. “I'll leave you two alone. I'm sure you guys have a lot to talk about.”
Jax's engine roared to life, and he pulled away from the curb, leaving me standing there with my kutte in my hand. But honestly, I wasn't even watching him anymore. My eyes were focused on Val. She was standing just a few feet away and was walking closer.
“You look better now, all cleaned up and stuff,” she said. As she stepped up to me, she rubbed a hand against my smooth cheek. “Make you shave in there?”
“Lawyer thought it might make me look better,” I said, scratching my freshly shaven cheek. “What do you think?”
“Smooth as a baby's bottom,” she said. “I'm not used to seeing you all gussied up like this, but I like the new look. I like it a lot.”
Speaking of babies, I looked down at Laila and she looked up at me with those big, bright eyes.
“How's she been since – well – you know?” I asked.
Val looked down at Laila and smiled. “Mostly good. Clingier than usual. Always needs to be in physical contact with me. But it's starting to ease up a bit. I don't think she liked me handing her off to a strange man. And she seems to have nightmares, but they're getting less and less frequent.”
“Good,” I said, stroking Laila's cheek.
Never in my life would I have ever imagined caring for a child, but this little one seemed to hold a special place in my heart. Perhaps because I felt the need to protect her as fiercely as I felt the need to protect her mother. There was no denying that they'd both carved out their own special, unique little niches in my heart. And those impressions they'd made were proving to be indelible.
I turned my attention back to Val. “And how are you doing?”
She shrugged. “I'm holding up,” she said. “I still have my moments where I freak out that he's going to come and find me. That he's going to really hurt me this time. But then I remember what happened, talk myself down, and then it's all okay again.”
Remember what happened – yeah, that I killed him. That's what she remembered. I cringed as the weight of what I'd done settle down around my shoulders once more, but Val smiled at me, and in that smile, I saw something I hadn't seen from her before. I saw happiness and freedom. Freedom from fear. There was just this lightness about her, and I found it more than a little ap
pealing. It suited her.
She stepped closer to me and smiled. “I've missed you, Mercer,” she said softly.
“I've missed you too.”
Val stood up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips to mine. It was just a soft kiss. A chaste kiss. But it somehow held so much emotion. It was enough to cause my heart to race.
“What are your plans now that you're a free woman?” I asked her.
“I dunno, I might leave town,” she said. “But Vegas has sort of become my home, you know? There's a lot I like about living here.”
“I know what you mean.”
“What about you?” she asked, touching the patches on my kutte. “Looks like you've been welcomed back into the club.”